Plight of a Partially Promiscuous Past, Part 1

I never considered myself really promiscuous despite the word in the title. I, like many men, have gone through the coming of age trials and tribulations of dating. You know stuff like courting, playing the field, getting played and heartbreaks, etc. I went from being an unconfident high schooler to somewhat of a ladies man overnight (not tooting my own horn). Therefore, mistakes were made, people were hurt (including me) as I grew into myself. I was never blatant with mine or doggish (if you ask me) and tried to treat everyone with respect considering.

I own up to my truth…my past, and I admit that I enjoyed myself immensely with an uncountable number of physical and romantic acts over the years. At the same time, I didn’t know that I was creating a conundrum that would keep me up many nights reflecting (and serving as the inspiration to this post) in recent years. Forgiveness for my actions and those of others came over the years as maturity helped me to see the faults of my ways. (I was never meant to be a playa.)

The conundrum, you may be wondering, is the tendency to have trust issues. Strong distrust issues. How? It was too easy to do what I was doing. Some of my actions might be deemed trifling, but the number of boo’ed up, engaged, and even married women that approached me or lied about their situations during those wild years was alarming. Let’s make it clear…I didn’t do all of my dirt by myself! All of this is not being braggadocious by no means. As I stated earlier, I owned up to my truth and my participation in it. I moved on…I forgave myself. I don’t believe in karma haunting you after you learn the lesson that you were supposed to. (Separated doesn’t mean single…for example.) The excuses/reasons including that I was young and immature or that their man wasn’t satisfying them, etc. seemed valid for my attraction and participation for I held on to no guilt…then.

So, all of the women too willing to cheat on their others instilled a strong sense of distrust in me. Years later, I started looking at dating (serious dating) as a gray area thing. I mean, I felt the expected excitement of a new potential or the presence of a lovely lady was there. Simultaneously, I was holding back my full romantic potential (when the person was suitable) as I played emotional chess waiting on each young lady to either show their worthiness or validate my theory of perpetual triflingness (that all women had trifling tendencies brought out by the right mix of events). Basically, it was easy to back out and move on to the next whenever things didn’t work out, or I was pleasantly surprised when things actually seemed to be working out with me not putting in my proper bid to maintain the pleasantries.

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